Turnabout Wedding
by Purple-Pleb
Summary: A groom is murdered. The bride is arrested. Phoenix Wright is summoned to defend the bride, on the way he meets the determined family, a mischievous prosecutor and a culprit who treads the line between love and dangerous obsession.
1. Chapter 1

_The groom was in his hotel room, looking at himself in the mirror. He was about to do it; a lifelong commitment that so many men fear to encounter. But he was not scared. He was ready._

_"__What a nice day for a white wedding," a quiet voice said behind him. The groom turned away from the mirror to look at the owner of the voice. It was a harmless looking man with glasses wearing a green shirt, possibly part of a uniform._

_"__Uh, hi. Who are you?" the groom asked._

_"__I don't think that matters. Who are YOU?" the man's voice seemed to rise into a sinister sneer, "What makes you think you can take her away from me?" The groom chuckled at the man's challenge, fastening his tie._

_"__Are you kidding me? What are you, an ex-boyfriend or something?"_

_"__You could say that."_

_"__Well, I don't care. You can get lost." The groom turned back to the mirror and started to fiddle with his cuff links. He suddenly began to sweat a little, the nerves were surfacing. It may have been because he could still feel the invader's presence. He turned back to him._

_"__What are you still doing here?" The man simply glared at him, "Listen, you creepy-"_

_At that moment, the man lunged at the groom and cleanly stabbed him in the shoulder. The groom groaned loudly in pain and fell backwards. The man advanced upon him again, grabbed his neck and forced him outside, onto the balcony. He tried not to look in the grooms eyes, as he pushed him over the railings. He heard the groom yelp. He heard his body hit the ground, 8 stories below. He ran away from the scene, out of the room and to the nearest elevator, pushing the button frantically. The doors opened immediately, he ran in. As the doors closed, his eyes closed too. _

_"__Katrina," he whispered._

It was a slow morning. There were no calls; no cases had come in for a few weeks. Maya was back home in Kurain village, leaving me alone. Calling her was the most productive thing I had done all day, and she seemed excited, as always. She said she was having a blast, the village had arranged a big ceremony to celebrate her first year as a master. She invited me, but I declined. I told her a big case was sure to come up.

I was right.

I was about to take a nap when there was loud thump on the door. I got up from the couch, straightened the crinkles on my clothes.

"Come in," I said. The door swung open and large man wearing a driving cap burst in.

"You!" he bellowed. I tried to ignore his theatrical entrance and be professional.

"Hello there my name is-"

"I know who you are young man, your name is on the door," he pointed to the piece of paper taped to the door with my name written on it. In pencil.

"Why yes it is. I'm Phoenix Wright anyway, how can I help?" The old man simple spluttered, completely overwhelmed.

"My son-in-law, he's been murdered!"

"When did this happen?"

"Yesterday. At his wedding." He choked on the word "wedding". I wondered if the victim was even married before it happened.

"I'm so sorry."

"What's worse, they've arrested my daughter!" It all came down to this. The fiancé was the accused, but I couldn't think of any good reason why the bride would want to kill the groom on their wedding day. I had to investigate.

"Please, take a seat sir. Tell me about what happened, and I can help you."


	2. Chapter 2

His name was Frank Ewan. His daughter was Katrina Ewan, a 24 year old who had been charged with the murder of the groom, Duke Johnson, who was 25 years old. He died before the ceremony could take place, so they weren't officially married. They had been engaged for seven months, but had been together for 3 years. Duke's body was found outside the Mayflower Hotel, he had fallen 8 stories from his hotel room to his death. Clues were found that pointed to Katrina, though Frank did not know what they were.

I had been waiting for twenty minutes in the detention centre. It seemed that Katrina was reluctant to talk to anyone. Eventually she walked in, all dressed in black.

"Hello, Katrina," I said as she sat down. No response. "My name is Phoenix Wright. I'm a defence attorney." Katrina crossed her arms, and gave me a look. I could see fear in her eyes.

"What do you want?" she spoke, lips trembling.

"Your father came by my office and he told me about your fiancé."

"I don't have a fiancé. He left me."

"He didn't leave you Katrina... He was taken away."

Katrina took a deep breath and sighed.

"Why would anyone do this to Duke? He was my everything," She began to sob quietly. I felt it was the right time to ask her questions.

"Hey Katrina, I was thinking we could talk another time. I need to go down to the hotel and gather information. I just wanted to introduce myself…"

Katrina nodded slightly and continued to sob into her hands.

* * *

The Mayflower Hotel was incredibly grand. There were police scattered everywhere which added certain grimness. I counted eight stories up, it was quite a fall. The body was found at the back of the building, where there was a large garden area. Directly across from the white outline was an area of the garden which contained rows of chairs and a podium. This is where the wedding ceremony was to take place. It was an eerie scene; this must have been what Duke last saw before he died.

"Hey, you!" A man in a tattered trench coat stumbled his way towards me.

"Detective Gumshoe," I greeted him, "Good to see you."

"You too, pal. Man, can you believe it? Murder at a wedding. They didn't even get to say 'till death do us part'!"

"Somehow I think that would have made the situation more painful."

"I guess you're right."

"So, what of the investigation? Any clues?" Gumshoe handed me a file. It contained details about evidence found, the key one being a knife with which Duke was stabbed with, though the stabbing was not the cause of death. The knife had Katrina's fingerprints on the handle. _That's just great_, I thought.

"Her fingerprints were on the knife, huh?"

"Bet you can't wait to try and find an excuse for that."

"I do my job with an open mind, there must be something. Can I go to the room the victim was in?"

"Um, no! But you can go into the kitchen."

"The kitchen? How is that going to help me?"

"I don't know, pal. But the knife did come from there."

There was a lot of bustle in the kitchen, cooks and waiters were packing equipment up. The caterers never got to serve food, how could Katrina have had access to a knife if it came from here? I stopped one of the waiters.

"Hi, I'm a lawyer," I told him, pointing at my badge. He looked at me blankly. "Does anyone around here know about the incident yesterday?"

"You mean _the incident_. Gee, no, but you might want talk to that guy over there." The waiter pointed to a man in a chef hat, "He has a mystery of his own." The waiter walked away, chuckling. The chef did look like he had a problem. I approached him and introduced myself as a lawyer.

"You must be a chef, right?"

"What? I'm no chef."

"Of course you're not." He was only wearing a chef's uniform!

"I'm Frederic Sanders. I don't make no dishes, I just supply the cake. Cake making is an art of it's own, and wedding cakes are the most extravagant of them all. I am the Picasso of baking!" I never was a fan of Picasso.

"So, uh, do you just do weddings?"

"No, I other do other events. Birthdays, christenings, bowling tournaments you name  
it. Here, take my card." He presented me with a small white business card, with bold pink lettering made to look like frosting which read "Pudge, Cakes For Whatever Occasion".

"P-pudge? Your cake company is called Pudge?"

"Yes, Pudge Cakes Inc, don't you think it's a good name?" I detected some irony. What was he going for, some sort of satire directed at obesity? "It's short and catchy, not to mention realistic! All these new fangled diets that women go on to stay thin, especially when they need to fit into a wedding dress, yet they worry so much about a cake that contains thousands of calories! Cakes were never made for healthy eating; they were made to put a smile on people's face and expand their waist. You see that beauty?" He directed me to a trolley; on top was the wedding cake, a staggering three tier white cake with purple frosting flowers and two little figurines at the top: a tiny bride and groom.

"Shame no one got to taste this."

"Actually..." Frederic spun the cake around and revealed a large slice had been taken out of the bottom tier. This must have been his "mystery".

"Some scallywag thought they should steal a bite before it's proper presentation! When I caught sight of it, I thought it was the worst thing that could have happened. Well, until _that _happened. My assistant joked it was a jealous bridesmaid. The cake I mean." I observed the disturbed cake. At first I thought it could have been a child, but it was cut too neatly. There was a nagging feeling that the cake had something to do with the murder.

* * *

After a while I was allowed to go into the victim's room. There weren't any obvious signs of a struggle, only some clothes scattered on the floor. It might as well have been my room. There was a door that led out to a balcony. This was where the victim was pushed. I opened up the Court Record.

"Why stab him?" I quietly said to myself, as if someone was there.

"That's what I asked too," a women's voice said which startled me.

"Yikes!" I turned around, slamming the Court Record shut, only to be more startled. It was a woman who looked a lot like Katrina, only with longer hair. I stammered, "Uh, hi there."

"Hello there," she said, smiling confidently, "Who are you by the way?"

"Me, well, I'm, who am I, I'm Phoenix Wright! I'm the defence attorney in this case." Why did I have to make myself sound like an idiot?

"Oh, you're defending my sister? Dad said something about a blue suit." People always remember the blue suit. "I'm Jenna Ewan, Katrina's older sister. Also, the maid of honour in this case."

"It's very nice to meet you." It really was very nice.

"Ditto. So, anything you found that will prove my sister is innocent? I mean, the fact that she was in love with the man should be enough for the court."

"Well, the court prefers evidence. Did you happen to see your sister at the time of the crime?" Katrina looked down at floor, disappointed.

"No, I didn't. But I know she wasn't killing Duke. Somebody framed her clearly. And when I find out who did-" She clenched her fist. I stepped back a little, intimidated, "Look at me, I'm scaring the lawyer off."

"Oh no, you have every right to be angry."

"I sure do."

"Do you happen to have any other siblings?"

"Nope, just Katrina." Her voice faltered, "Look, I have to know that I can trust you. You can do it right? You can save Katrina." There was that same fear in her eyes that I saw in Katrina's. I remembered watching Katrina cry; I didn't want to see her sister do the same.

"I believe in Katrina. So you can believe in me." I wanted to bite my tongue, I sounded so corny! Jenna didn't seem fazed though. She took out a piece of paper out of her bag and handed it to me. An address was written on it.

"I'm staying at my parents' place, come down there if you have any questions." I slipped the paper into my pocket. I fidgeted awkwardly and mumbled thanks.

"See you round, Phoenix." She left the room, hair swinging with every step. Another case, another pair of sisters.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'd like to apologise for earlier, I was such a mess," Katrina explained in our second meeting of the day. She was a lot more composed, though I could see her hands shaking through the glass.

"No, no, it's fine really!" I assured her.

"How is the investigation going?"

"Well, it's coming along. Except..." I paused.

"What? Tell me, please."

"He was stabbed." Katrina held her hand over her mouth, gasping.

"Katrina, the knife has your fingerprints on it." Her eyes widened with shock.

"But I didn't do it. I didn't do it!"

"Think about it Katrina, why are your fingerprints on there? Did you use a knife that day?"

"No, I...No way. It can't be." I could see where this was going. "Mr Wright, I don't how to say this. Okay, I hadn't eat all day, I was too nervous to eat. I was pacing in the corridor when I saw it. A wedding cake. _My_ wedding cake. No one was around and I was starving. There was a knife next to cake so I picked it up and, well you can guess."

I imagined Katrina finding her own wedding cake, getting excited and trying to fight the temptation of eating it. I nodded with relief. "That's would explain the fingerprints. What did you do with the knife?"

"I guess I just put it back on the trolley. Someone must have seen me then and then killed my fiance and tried to frame me! Who would do such a thing?"

Katrina clutched at her chestnut coloured hair, shaking her head in disbelief.

"We will find out," I said calmly. For better or for worse.

* * *

The morning of the trial had loomed. I shifted around in my bed as the alarm buzzed. I clicked the alarm off and lay on my back, thinking of what lied ahead. Katrina might have been framed, but by who exactly? I wondered, maybe an ex-boyfriend of some kind. I didn't know how to ask her such a question.

In the courtroom lobby, I met with Katrina again. It all came out like an uncontrollable sneeze.

"Katrina, is it possible that that a jealous ex did it?" She shot me a questionable look. I knew I shouldn't have asked.

"Mr Wright, while that does sound plausible, I'll have you know that two of my ex-boyfriends were at the wedding."

A plural number of ex-boyfriends?

"Not to sound judgemental but, TWO?!"

"And neither of them did it, I'm telling you now." She was pointing at me, stern and focused, "They are both happily married."

"Okay, it was just an idea. The only idea." The large door to the courtroom creaked open and a bailiff motioned us to come in. I gave Katrina an encouraging smile and we walked in together.

* * *

I had never heard of the prosecutor. His name was Jason Baczkowski. He had heard of me though.

"Phoenix Wright, we meet finally. Heh, if your parents wanted to name you after a bird, should have gone for 'Dodo'."

Such enthralling trash talk. I cleared my throat.

"Defense is ready, Your Honour." I always felt uneasy when I said this.

"Your opening statement, Mr Baczkowski," the judge said.

"A wedding took place on 21st June, where a tragic incident occurred. I mean, two daft people were actually contemplating on getting married, can you believe that?"

"Come now, my wife and I have been married for over 40 years."

"Really? Was divorce illegal in the old days? Anyway, back to the case at matter! A man of 25 years was staying at the Mayflower hotel with a couple of friends. In this very hotel, he was to get married. He was in his hotel room where he was pushed off the balcony and suffered fatal head injuries. Time of death estimated at 10:45. He lived for a few minutes, so the time he was pushed could be rounded up to 10:40."

"Any possibility of suicide?"

"We have moved away from that. He was stabbed before falling. Therefore one who did the stabbin' did the killing. And whose fingerprints were on the knife you may ask? Well the defandant who also happens to be the bride!"

I turned to Katrina, who gave me a half-hearted smile. I considered bringing up the cake, though it didn't sound convincing enough. There was no other evidence that pointed to anyone else. Not yet, at least. The atmosphere in the courtroom was unrestrained. Along the back I could see Frank who had his arm around a woman I didn't recognise, possibly Katrina's mother. No sign of Jenna.

"We shall hear from the witness then," the judge ordered.

Prosecutor Baczkowski called for the witness to be brought in. We all watched the door behind the judges seat opened, behind an entering bailiff was a man in robes. Looked liked a priest. He made his way up to the witness stand.

"Will the witness state his name and occupation."

"Reverend Joseph Barnes. Occupation, server of God, AKA a church minister," Reverend Barnes said.

I went to church a lot as a kid. My mother was pretty adamant about it. I got a sudden flashback of being a little boy in my Sunday suit, hair gelled back listening to Father McKay preach. I hoped that Reverend Barnes as a man of God would be the real deal and tell the truth.

"Reverend, please describe what you saw on the day of the incident," Baczkowski asked.

The reverend nodded peacefully and began.

"I arrived at the hotel at 10:00. The wedding was to take place at noon. I was on the ground floor when I walked past Katrina. She waved to me but was in a heated discussion on her mobile telephone. I unfortunately heard her utter the words, "I'm going to kill him". She was holding a knife in her hand."

As the reverend finished, the judge blinked a couple of times, eyebrows raised with intrigue. I turned to Katrina and she nodded at me as if to confirm that this actually happened. The judge called for my cross-examination.

"Reverend Barnes, can you tell me around what time you saw Katrina?" I started, hesitating a little.

"It was around 10:20."

"That's about 20 minutes before the murder."

"The defendant could have easily done the crime in that time," Baczkowski chimed in, "The elevator takes no longer than a minute to reach eighth floor. All she had to do was go up the elevator, kill the man and still have enough time to complete a sudoku."

I wouldn't agree on that. Sudokus are pretty damn hard.

"Katrina waved to you. Did you need to talk to her?"

"I did, I wanted to ask her how to get to the garden. I saw that she was busy so I went to look for someone else. I got a bit lost though. I got stranded in the kitchen. The cooks scolded me for not wearing a hair net."

"Erm, did you manage to find your way out?"

"I found a maid and she gave me map."

I also picked up a hotel map yesterday.

"I just read the map and eventually found my way to the corridor and there was a door at the end which led to outside."

"So, you say that you saw Katrina on the phone? Do you know who she was talking to?"

"I cannot say I do, I don't like to eavesdrop."

"But you heard her say, "I'm going to kill him"?"

"Well, yes, you see she said it very loudly."

"Let me get this straight. We are considering an angle where the defendant is guilty on the basis that she said, "I'm going to kill him"? It's just an expression."

"OBJECTION," Baczkowski interjected, "Sure, many of us say that we're going to kill people in anger when we don't mean it. But there's no way to prove the defendant wasn't being serious, and if you didn't notice, someone was actually killed."

Drat. I thought there had to be another aspect to look at.

"About the knife. It was the knife that the victim was stabbed with?" I swiftly tried to change the subject.

"Yes, the one with the pink 'P'," the reverend said.

The knife was a part of Pudge's own design, a small pink 'P' was on all their utensils. Pudge which made the cake. This cake could have played a role in all this.

"What did you do after you saw Katrina?"

"I went to the garden area."

"In that case, you went through the corridor?"

"Yes."

"Where exactly did you see Katrina talking on the phone?"

"In the lounge area."

I paused. It was time to consult the Court Record. The knife with the pink "P", part of Pudge's own supply of utensils. Reverend Barnes saw Katrina, after she ate the cake, was she mad about the cake? Did she want to kill Frederich? Figuratively speaking of course.

I sifted through evidence and profiles and I came across the map I had picked up yesterday. I studied it carefully the night before but I wasn't entirely confident that it would come up. Opening up the map for the first floor, I looked upon many sections, the kitchen in the right corner, a grand lounge in the centre with a door to the stairs, a corridor coming out of the lounge with 8 small hotel rooms and a door at the end which led to the outside, into the garden area. In between two doorways of two rooms was the elevator. Reverend Barnes lost his way and ended up in the kitchen. To get to the garden, he would have had to go through the lounge again.

"When you got back from the kitchen, was she still there?"

"Y-yes, she was."

"And you didn't see her leave?"

Reverend Barnes glanced slightly at Baczkowski, who didn't looked phased at all.

"Well, no, I didn't."

"When did you finally get to the garden?"

"At around 10:40. There was a lot of commotion in the garden, because they had found Duke, God rest him."

Uncertainty, that's the vibe I was getting. If Katrina was really the killer, then Reverend Barnes should have seen her go to the eighth floor.

"OBJECTION," I said, with gusto.


	4. Chapter 4

All eyes were on me. Five years I had been attorney, but every time I brought out an objection the rush felt new. I smiled proudly with my finger pointed to Reverend Barnes who clutched a small cross to himself.

"Mr Wright, what is it?" the judge asked.

"Reverend, if you saw Katrina still in the lounge and by the time you got outside they had found Duke, then you should have seen Katrina use the elevator!"

Whispering among the jury commenced in agreement. Even the judge was nodding. Baczkowski kept up a good poker face.

"Alright, you have a point, pointy head," he said. My hair was often a target of ridicule, but it was ironic coming from Baczkowski who was sporting a blonde mullet. "HOWEVER, look at the map. Do you not see the stairs?"

Yes, there was an entrance to the stairs to the left of the lounge, where Reverend Barnes would not have been able to see Katrina on his route to the garden.

"That is true, but Katrina couldn't have possibly climbed eight floors surely?"

"Oh I get it, it would take too much time and she'd be too out of breath to commit the murder, right?"

"Exactly."

It was a hoot to be in agreement.

"But who's to say she took the stairs the entire way up? I mean, she could have just taken the stairs to the next floor and then took the elevator from there. JUST so the reverend didn't see her."

I grimaced, my hands and legs felt like jelly.

"She was witnessed willingly holding the murder weapon. She was heard saying that she wanted to kill someone. The murder weapon was confirmed to have had her fingerprints on it. Her motive? Well, relationships have problems don't they, Mr. 40 years of marriage?"

"Why yes, they do indeed!" the judge concurred, "Maybe the defendant and the victim had an argument and the defendant in anger resorted to murder. What is your stance on this, Mr. Wright?"

I hoped the judge wasn't talking from experience.

"OBJECTION, Your Honour! Katrina did not kill Duke, she was framed!"

An uproar of chatter began in the jury. The judge pounded his gavel.

"Order! Mr Wright, are you sure that this is the case?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Anybody could claim that they were framed. Were's your evidence Wright?" Baczkowski demanded.

Evidence, of course. All three tiers of it. It was the only thing I could do.

"Here," I said nervously, presenting the cake.

"That's a cake, is it someone's birthday?" The judge asked, merrily.

"No, Your Honour, this is a wedding cake. The wedding cake that was to be served at the wedding. Someone had already had a slice though."

"Oh, a mystery within a mystery. Do you know who it was?"

"Yes. It was the defendant."

"Defendant how could you!? Well, actually it is your cake after all-"

"OBJECTION," Baczkowski yelled, "Don't make me demote you to pigeon, Phoenix Wright. This is a murder trail, not a cake nabbing trial."

"This cake is relevant to the case! Katrina was hungry so she cut a slice out of the cake. With a knife. The Pudge knife. That is how her fingerprints got on the knife."

"How do you know she cut the cake before the murder? Maybe she stabbed him, then had some celebratory cake afterwards, with a different knife."

I rubbed the back of my neck, dumbfounded.

"Hold it!"

Everybody turned their heads towards me, although I wasn't the one who spoke.

"Praise Jesus! My memory has come flooding back to me!" Reverend Barnes exclaimed.

"What are you talking about, witness?" Baczkowski asked the reverend with his arm crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

"Forgive me, I must confess. I saw this cake outside the corridor, the second time I saw Katrina. I do remember a slice had been taken out of it."

Baczkowski lightly banged his desk.

"Are you sure, Reverand?"

"When I swear to tell the truth...," the reverend held his head up, looking to the ceiling, "I mean it."

"Wait, the defendant still said that she wanted to, quote "kill him". What is your explanation for that?"

"She wasn't taking about Duke," I replied.

"Then who was she talking about?"

The cake "artist" didn't seem like a bad person, but unfortunately I had to drag his name into it.

"Frederich Sanders, he runs Pudge."

"Pudge? Is that one of those fat camps?" the judge queried, as if he wanted to join one.

"No Your Honour, it's a cake business. My defendant bought a wedding cake from Pudge, and the knife used to stab the victim is also property of Pudge. The fingerprints are on the knife because she used it to cut a slice of cake, not because she murdered Duke. And she was angry at Frederich Sanders, not Duke, because there was a problem with the cake. There is someone who knew Katrina used the knife and they framed her."

"Mr Baczkowski, what is your response?"

Baczkowski chuckled a little, and ran a hand through his mullet.

"What a load of yarn. Are you finished?"

"I have a request. I ask that we further investigate the cake," I suggested.

"I guess that's permissable. Mr Baczkowski?" the judge said.

To my surprise, Baczkowski reluctantly agreed. And with that the judge pounded his gavel and the court was adjourned. I watched Baczkowski leave his podium. I hadn't noticed before that he was dressed like an overgrown boy scout, complete with a sash with only one badge. His prosecutor badge I assumed. I considered getting myself a sash for my badge, maybe then people would be more impressed when I showed it to them.

* * *

Katrina was briskly escorted out of the court room, so we had to meet again at the detention centre.

"You were brilliant Phoenix! I heard you were good but you owned the stage, er, court," Katrina gushed. I playfully bowed, I rarely got compliments. I hadn't even proven her innocent yet. "And that prosecutor," she continued rolling her eyes, "He's a bit of a... you know."

"Tell me about it," I said, "But compared to prosecutors I've battled in the past, he seems pretty level-headed at least."

She had been in questioning, apparently they interrogated her on the cake.

"Everything has been so terrible and crazy, it just slipped my mind. Someone was trying to kill Duke." I shook my head, unsure of what she was getting at. "With the cake I mean. You're right, I was mad at Fred but he messed up big time."

"What did he do?"

"There were nuts in the cake. Duke is- was- severely allergic."

I sat back in my seat. Were there two people who wanted Duke dead?

"I was very thorough with what I wanted in this cake. I met with him at the Pudge store many times and I specifically said NO NUTS," she seemed to be going into bridezilla mode, "Do you think Fred was trying to kill Duke?"

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. Why would _I_ kill Duke?" Katrina bit her lip and turned away. Her hazel eyes were about to fill with tears. I wouldn't have said anything anyway.

"Look Katrina, we need to start thinking about who did this. Was there anyone you know of that was on bad terms with Duke?"

"No, everybody liked Duke. He is- was- one of those guys, he was smart and funny and a good friend."

It was like being in court, I would get nowhere without pressing.

"Katrina, I know I asked you before but is there anyone that you know who may have done this out of jealousy?"

The world went dark for a second as the sound of rattling chains surrounding us rippled through my ears and a lock materialised over Katrina's heart.

"I told you before, there isn't. Please stop asking me."

A psyche lock, which meant she was hiding something. It was an intense feeling when a psyche lock appeared, to watch the truth physically be locked away. There was only one key: evidence. Even though the magatama was in my suitcase, its radiant glow pierced through it. A mystical signal that told me to go out and investigate.


	5. Chapter 5

It took a six mile long bus ride to get to the Ewan residence. As I walked from where the bus stopped to the house, I got a good look around the neighbourhood. It was a typical suburban area, an ideal place to raise a family. It felt ominous, Katrina and Duke probably would have settled down in a place like this, I assumed. Approaching the house, I saw the woman from court who was with Frank. She was hunched over, holding a watering can and tipping it towards a flower bed. She noticed me and straightened up, brushing at her overalls. She must have recognised me because she immediately came towards me with a beaming smile.

"It's you," she said. She had a very warm, kind voice. "You're the lawyer from today, Phoenix was it?"

"That's me," I said.

"How nice of you to drop by, we are so grateful that you are helping us. I'm Rosa, Katrina's mother." I smiled and realised it had been weeks since I called my mother. Rosa turned to the front door which was wide open. "Frank, come here!" He didn't come out straight away, only after Rosa called for him another three or four times.

"What is it Rosaline," he moaned slightly as he arrived, "Ah, Phoenix Wright!" he hollered when he saw me. He shook my hand, "I knew I did the right thing in hiring you, boy. And to think, my daughter was framed. What kind of sick b-"

"Now, now Frank calm down. Mr. Phoenix, how will you prove that Katrina was framed?" Rosa enquired.

"We'd have to find out who is the real murderer, so I will be investigating today. I was hoping that I could speak to your daughter," I explained.

"Phoenix, you seem to have lost your way. Katrina is incarcerated, you should be at the detention center," Frank informed me, laughing at my supposed blunder.

"Oh no, I meant your other daughter. Jenna."

What was a pleasant meeting turned frosty. Frank reeled back in horror and frowned.

"And what could you possibly need to see my Jenna for, Wright?"

"Uh, you know, to talk about Katrina?" I squeaked.

"If you need to talk about Katrina, you should ask me. I know my daughter pretty well."

I mumbled and stammered, wanting to raise an objection and declare that children keep secrets from their parents. Even I hadn't been honest with my parents about being accused of murder. Twice. Thankfully, Rosa looked at the ground, shaking her head.

"Frank, you need to accept that our daughters don't tell us everything. Let the man speak to Jenna," Rosa pleaded.

"Fine," Frank scoffed dejectedly, "But no funny business."

"Yes, sir," I said. He sighed and turned his attention to the flowerbed. Rosa gestured me to the front door and we walked to entrance hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs. Rosa called out to Jenna who appeared on the above landing, saw me and then ran back.

"I'll be there in a minute!" she yelled. Rosa patted my shoulder and went back outside. A moment later Jenna descended gracefully down the stairs.

"Hi, Phoenix," she greeted me as she reached the last step.

"Hi, Jenna," I replied. We were a few feet apart, exchanging glances. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear so her face was in full view. Her eyes- her deep brown eyes- shied away from mine.

"Let's go to the kitchen."

She led the way to the kitchen. The murmuring of the refrigerator was oddly comforting.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked as I took a seat at a small table. With the offer of tea, I almost made a joke about Edgeworth before realising that Jenna didn't know who he was.

"Tea would be great," I said. She opened a cupboard and pulled out two china cups and began preparing the tea. "I noticed you weren't in court today."

She turned around and gripped the counter behind her. "About that. This is going to sound bad but I'm not allowed in a court of law."

"Seriously? Why is that?"

She held up a hand when the kettle beeped and poured water into the cups. My mind was array with assumptions. Was she a felon? She took a seat at the table, handing over a cup of tea to me. The curiosity was agonising.

"Okay, here's what happened. This one time I was doing jury duty. It was a sexual harassment case-woman on man- and I sort of got really worked up about it. I did something really foolish." She began to giggle. "I flipped the bird at someone."

"At who?"

"The judge."

I was glad I hadn't started drinking because I would have spat it out.

"Woah! That's- woah!" It sounded silly, I had been whipped in court, had coffee thrown at me and once had to cross examine a parrot yet was utterly shocked at her actions. "What came over you?"

"When the judge gave the verdict, I wasn't happy with it so I expressed myself. It was meant to be discreet!" We both laughed harmoniously. "Anyway, I'm banned. Do you think less of me?"

"Of course not. You must have been really passionate about the case. As a lawyer, I like that." I took a sip of tea, with a dilemma: to wink or not to wink?

"Thanks. Oh yeah, the reverend called. Apparently he doesn't think Katrina did it so he is going to hold a special service at his church for you. Pretty decent of him, huh?"

"Yeah, we need all the goodwill we can get."

I recapped the events of the day's trial to Jenna. She listened intently, sighing quietly when I told her that Katrina took a bite of her own wedding cake before the wedding which inevitably led to the framing incident. I mentioned the psyche lock, indirectly.

"I talked to Katrina today and I have this feeling that she's hiding something. A person, who might have killed Duke. I was wondering if you know anything."

Jenna sipped some tea and pondered

"Let's go upstairs," she requested.

"Huh?"

"There's something I need to show you."

She rose from her chair and motioned me to follow her. I got up as well and we walked together to the stairs. I was worried that Frank would catch us so I kept an eye out for him. I could hear him from the living room talking over a television show, possibly a golf match. Jenna ran swiftly up the stairs and then turned left. We entered a room which contrasted the California outside with its maroon coloured walls and furniture plucked from the middle east.

"This is Katrina's room," Jenna said, gesturing to the decor, "She's crazy about Morocco. They were going to honeymoon there." She knelt down and started searching for something under the bed. I examined the room and a bookcase caught my eye. It didn't really contain that many books at all, a few cookbooks, bridal magazines and a children's encyclopedia. On the bottom shelf was a book that looked handmade. At first I thought it was a diary but it turned out to be Katrina's highschool yearbook. I flipped through it, through the pages that contained photos of all her fellow students. I skimmed through cheerleaders, bookworms, queen bees until eventually I came across Katrina's photo. It was a standard school photo, green backdrop and a fresh-faced expression. People always look happier in old photos. In this instance, that sentiment was true. I continued through the pages and Katrina was in another photo: a large group photo under the header "Saviours of the Rainforest". Many enthusiastic, smiling youths stared back at me wearing bright yellow t-shirts. Katrina was in the center. Even though it was a still photo, she was clearly doing jazz hands.

"Found it!" Jenna called from under the bed. She emerged with a brown box which had an intricate pattern; probably another item from Morocco. Jenna placed the box on the bed and opened it slowly. I closed the yearbook and took a closer look at the contents of the box. Many hand written letters had been stuffed in there.

"What do they say?" I asked. Jenna picked one of the letters and handed it to me.

_Katrina,_

_I saw you at the zoo today, remember we went there a lot, in the past. That's when we were friends. Except we weren't friends. I could never even speak to you. You always had a boyfriend. And why wouldn't you? You're so beautiful. I dream of us being together, eternally happy. I hope one day my dream comes true. My heart longs for you. _

_Love The Wizard._

"The Wizard?"

"Methinks that's an alias. Here's a more recent one." She handed me another letter.

_Katrina,_

_Are my eyes deceiving me? That looked like an engagement ring on your finger. Such a shame. I've seen you with that guy. I think his name is Duke. Whatever, it doesn't matter. I wish you the best. _

_Love The Wizard_

"I think that's when the letters stopped."

"So Katrina had a secret admirer."

"More like STALKER," Jenna retorted.

"Was there a return address?"

"Nope. But I think whoever wrote these letters is the murderer."

"That's a sweeping statement, I need to do some-"

"Investigating?"

I nodded. Jenna closed the box and gave it to me. I held up the yearbook.

"Can I borrow this?"

"Sure."

We returned downstairs and said our goodbyes. Jenna offered to ask Frank to give me ride back to the city. I politely refused.


	6. Chapter 6

The letters from The Wizard showed true affection for Katrina, in a very creepy way. The Wizard must have been following her because he always seemed to know where she had been. Maybe Jenna was right, maybe Katrina did have a stalker. But Katrina must have not been too worried, considering she kept them in a box like they were love letters from some Lothario. I planned to confront Katrina's psyche lock with the new information, but before that I had other priorities.

I stood outside the storefront of Pudge. A large window allowed me to see through into the interior where I could see a small counter with boxes stacked behind it. There was an ad on the window which read:

_Job Vacancy_

_assistant _

_If interested, please give your resume_

I proceeded into the store. A bell above the door twinkled as I opened it. Frederich popped up from under the counter.

"Welcome to... oh it's you," he said. He didn't look too pleased to see me.

"Is there a problem?" I asked.

"Yes there is." He lifted the counter door and made his way towards me. He pointed in the corner, "That's Michael by the way, my assistant."

I glanced at where he was pointing where there was a young man in a green shirt and glasses applying icing to cupcakes in the corner. He raised his head and nodded, then went back to work. Frederich requested that we go outside.

"What's wrong Frederich?" I asked him as we stepped out onto the street.

"I've been through a horrific ordeal today. Detectives burst into my store and dragged me to the police station. Then they interrogated me, telling me that I put nuts into that cake. I did no such thing!"

"Are you sure?"

Frederich digged into his front pocket and pulled out a notebook.

"I keep a record of all the cakes I make," he explained, flicking through the notebook. He stopped at a page. "Aha, Katrina Ewan. We met many times to talk about what she wanted. Here is the finished recipe. Do you see nuts written here?"

He passed the notebook to me and I analysed the recipe. Flour, eggs, sugar, buttercream but no sign of nuts. In fact there was a small scrawl that read "NO NUTS" and was underlined three times.

"No offence Frederich, but could it be that you simply made a mistake?"

"Do I look like an amateur? I am a professional! Besides, Katrina gave me very in depth detail about Duke's entire medical history. About how he almost died once when he mistook a walnut for a raisin. They can take that cake apart, but they will not find any nuts, because I absolutely did not put in any damn nuts!" He was fuming, and I waited for a sign of a psyche lock. Nothing.

"Calm down Frederich," I assured him.

"Do they think I killed him?" Frederich whimpered.

The bell twinkled as the door opened slightly and the assistant's head peered out.

"There's an order on the phone, boss," he told Frederich. Frederich turned on his heel and strutted back into the store. He grabbed the telephone and started jotting into his notebook.

"Are you Phoenix Wright?" Michael asked me.

"Yes, I am," I replied.

"I have something to give you."

I followed him into the store. He went behind the counter and returned with a small box.

"A gift from Jason Baczkowski."

I took the box from him and opened it to find a cupcake with the word "Defeat" written on it with icing.

"Haha," I snarled, taking a bite out the the cake, "Defeat tastes pretty good."

Michael smirked, adjusting his glasses. Frederich finished his phone conversation and sternly ordered Michael to get back to work. I put the cupcake back into the box to save for later.

"I'm sorry Frederich, about what you've been through. If there's any consolation, I solved your cake mystery."

"Really? You know who ate it?"

"Funnily enough, it was Katrina."

Frederich raised an eyebrow and snorted. At least he lightened up, until he started to yell at Michael.

"Michael, what in the name of marzipan?"

A panicking Michael had made a mess of the cakes, having covered one in a whole tube's worth of icing.

"Sorry boss, I lost concentration!" Michael apologised, his head in his hands, "I'll clean it up immediately."

"No need, I'll do it," Frederich signed, taking the ruined cakes into the kitchen. Michael looked uneasy. In my opinion, it wasn't the cupcakes that had gotten him so flustered.

"Excuse me, Michael?" I got Michael's attention.

"What?" he replied.

"Did you happen to be at the Mayflower two days ago?"

"Yeah, I was there."

"Then, do you know anything about the murder?"

"Of course not."

He was lying. I didn't need the two psyche locks that appeared above his heart to know that, he clearly reacted to the mentioning of Katrina just a few moments earlier.

"Michael, I think you do know something. Let's talk about it."

"You're wrong. I don't know anything. Now if you don't mind, I'm at work. Can I interest you in ordering a cake?"

"Um, no?"

"Well then, thank you for coming to Pudge. You may leave," he said robotically, and retreated to the kitchen. The two psyche locks were sealed tight, I wondered if I would be able to break them. I didn't have anything to connect him to the murder. Not yet at least.

* * *

Katrina had been taken in for questioning, so I decided to drop on by to the criminal affairs offices where the atmosphere was pretty relaxed. Everybody was eating off of paper plates, though it seem a little late for lunch. To my horror, my eyes met with what they were eating on the chief detectives desk. It was Katrina's wedding cake.

"Hey, pal!" Gumshoe greeted me, his voice muffled as his mouth filled with cake.

"Detective Gumshoe! Is that the cake from this case? Why are you guys eating it?" I squealed.

"Don't worry, no one here is allergic to nuts."

"That's not what I mean. You're eating evidence!"

"Prosecutor Baczkowski said they don't need it anymore."

"Why?"

"Because he said that even though there are nuts in this cake, it doesn't really add to the case."

"But it does, it explains why Katrina's fingerprints are on the knife and what she was angry about."

"That's the thing pal, you can't prove that she ate the cake."

Like a bolt I sprinted out of the police station and headed towards the Mayflower hotel. Panting, I thought up a scenario. Katrina finds her cake unguarded. She gives into to temptation and cuts a slice for herself, putting her fingerprints unknowingly on a knife that would become a murder weapon. She takes a bite and tastes the nuts. She becomes extremely concerned and enraged that Duke could have eaten this cake and have an allergic reaction.

Did she finish eating it? That was the question I was hoping to answer as I reached the spinning contraption that the Mayflower used as a door 20 minutes later. I passed through the entrance, into the lounge and began examining the room. There was a minibar to the left and a door that led to the reception room. In the center of the lounge was a seating area with red, velvet couches and a coffee table with housekeeping magazines sprawled across it and empty wine glasses. If the piece of cake was to be anywhere, my first guess would have been this coffee table, but no such luck.

It turned out to be on the floor, half eaten and placed on a napkin. There were teeth marks on it. I quickly scanned the room for someone who could help. I approached a man wearing a white lab coat.

"Hello, Mr. Forensic man!" I frantically said.

"Adam. My name is Adam," he introduced himself.

"Adam, my name is Phoenix Wright, I'm an attorney working on the..." I paused, looking at the court record, "W-21/6 case. I need your help. Do you see that piece of cake down there?"

"I see it. Hey, you know they're eating a huge cake down in the criminal affairs department?"

"It was a delightful sight. Anyway, could you analyse that piece of cake for traces of DNA. You know, from saliva?"

"Bodily fluids are my calling. I'll get on it right away."

"Thank you."

Adam crouched down and bagged up the cake, getting it ready to analyse for possible traces of Katrina's saliva. Speaking of Katrina's saliva, her psyche lock was still to be broken, and I only had a short while before visiting hours were to finish. I raced back to the police station and Katrina was available to meet in the detention centre. She looked tired, as was I, but unfortunately I was going to have to grill her.

"What is it Phoenix?" she asked, impatient.

"Just one second," I said, squeezing the magatama in my hand. There it was, the psyche lock, elegant but uninviting. "I asked you earlier if there is a person who may have killed Duke out of jealously."

"You did. And, I'll say it again, there is no one."

"You're hiding something."

"You seem pretty confident about that. Don't tell me it's Jake and Phil."

"Who?"

"My two ex- boyfriends, remember?"

"Oh right, no that's not who I mean."

"Then who do you mean? What makes you think that there is some jealous guy out there who killed Duke?"

I took a deep breath and presented Katrina with the box of love letters from The Wizard. Katrina's mouth gaped open as I slowly slid the box towards her so that it lightly touched the glass and then lifted the lid to show her the letters. An echoing smash rose from the silence and the psyche lock disappeared.

"Well, I see you've visited my bedroom," Katrina sighed.

"Katrina, who is this person? The Wizard?"

"I honestly have no idea. When I started college they kept coming and sort of stopped when me and Duke got engaged. I guess I kept them because they're kind of sweet."

I decided not to outwardly disagree.

"You really don't know who this could be?" I pressed.

"I really don't. Maybe it's for me to not know and for you to find out."

"Challenge accepted."


	7. Chapter 7

Maya surprised me with a phone call. She had decided to postpone her celebration ceremony and travel down to work with me on the case. It was good to know she still had that lawyer spirit in her. We planned to meet at the train station. I was sat on a bench on the platform waiting for her train. I was reading one of the free newspapers that the train service supplied in order to ease the boredom of long train journeys. There was an article in the entertainment section: an interview with the latest teen heart-throb Taylor Johnson who was a TV actor in the popular Titanium Samurai. How many more metal elements before they give up on this tired franchise, I hopelessly wondered.

It was about 6pm when Maya's train finally arrived. The train halted and travellers flowed out busily. In the bustle I spotted Maya, always noticeable in her spirit medium clothes. She saw me too and skipped towards me, enclosing me in a big hug.

"Hi Nick!" she screeched.

"Master Maya, what an honour," I chuckled, "I have a present for you." I handed her a small box. She took it and opened it, taking out the cupcake from Pudge.

"Feat?"

"It's meant to say "Defeat". The prosecutor gave it to me."

"Nick, you're giving this to me when you already took a bite out of it?"

"Do you want it or not?"

Maya remembered that she is a food enthusiast and chomped down on the cupcake. She closed her eyes dreamily as she chewed.

"Mmm, this is so good! Did the prosecutor make this?"

I shook my head and presented her with Frederich's business card.

"Pudge," she read finishing off the cupcake, "Awesome! I'm totally going to get a cake for my celebration ceremony. Thanks Nick." She placed the card into her pocket. "I'm starving. Know what I'm in the mood for?"

"Let me guess, sushi?"

Maya cackled and we made our way out of the train station and to a nearby fast food restaurant. Maya ordered two huge burgers for herself while I opted for some fries. We took a seat at a table in the corner and I began giving her the 411 on the case.

"What if it's the cake guy?" Maya asked.

"I don't believe Frederich did it. It's his assistant I'm concerned about, Michael. He's got two psyche locks. Then there's the mysterious Wizard."

I had Katrina's yearbook in front of me, flipping through it. There were many pictures of Katrina with a few of her friends, all wearing the yellow Saviours of the Rainforest t-shirts. There was one where they were pictured in front of a glass with monkeys behind it. They were at the zoo, I assumed. I flipped back to the large group photo and looked at all the faces. One face caught my eye, an awkward looking boy with black hair. I hoped Katrina wouldn't mind if I drew in her yearbook, as I took a pen and put small circles around the boys eyes.

It was Michael.

"What is it Nick?"

I held up the picture to her, pointing at Michael. "I've seen this boy. He works at Pudge but now he wears glasses and has mousy brown hair."

"You have to know for sure. Don't yearbooks have pictures with the student's names under them?"

I turned to the pages with picture of all the students. Since I didn't know Michael's last name, I had to go through all of them until he appeared. I carefully checked every photo. There were a couple of Michaels but none of them looked like him. Until I got to students with surnames beginning with "L".

"Michael Levy." I drew some glasses on him, "Yep, that is definitely him."

Did Katrina and Michael really know each other? She never mentioned him though I never asked her and Michael seemed apprehensive when I said her name. I couldn't ask Katrina at the time so Michael was the only one we could question.

"I need to talk to him, but I have this feeling he won't co-operate. I can't mess this up," I muttered.

"We need clues. Let's break into his house," Maya said, as if she wasn't joking.

"You must be faint Maya. Shall we order more food?"

"I'm serious Nick! We can just go into his home, I've learnt how to lock pick."

"What on earth Maya? When did you learn that?"

Maya held up her forefinger, wanting to finish chewing. She gulped and then cleared her throat.

"This one time I channelled this guy's mother. She was a jewel thief. She taught him the tricks of the trade when he was young but he ended up becoming a dentist. He still had the skills so I asked him to give me a crash course, instead of cash."

I didn't think anything could stun me more that day than Jenna using a rude hand gesture to a judge but Maya's story did just that. Maya had become a responsible adult but was a trouble magnet.

"Do you know where he lives?" Maya continued nonchalantly.

"What, no! We are not doing this Maya, forget it."

Maya pouted.

"Nick, we have to. I'll be careful, we can wear gloves and everything. Come on, what if Michael is the killer? We have to strike or he'll get away!"

I rubbed the back of my neck, gritting my teeth. I was actually considering Maya's outrageous idea.

"But I don't even know where he lives," I sighed.

"Ask his boss then." Maya pulled out Frederich's card which had the number of Pudge, "Shall I make the call?"

I lightly banged my fist on the table and caved in.

"Alright, do it."

Maya started typing numbers into her phone and then passed it over to me. I pressed it to my ear, not sure whether I wanted anyone to pick up.

"Hello. Pudge Cakes, how may I help you?"

Frederich answered the phone.

"Frederich hi, it's Phoenix Wright."

"Oh Phoenix, where did you run off to earlier?"

"Frederich, I don't have much time to explain. Is Michael there?"

"Yes he is, do you want to talk to him?"

"No no. I need to let you know that things are looking pretty bad for you."

"What do you mean?"

"In the investigation, they found nuts in the cake. So, there is reason to believe that you were trying to kill Duke."

"That's ludicrous!"

"Please don't shout Frederich. I need for you to be calm. If you really insist that you didn't put nuts into that cake, then someone else did. Michael, maybe."

"What? That can't be. I mean he's not the best assistant I've ever had but Michael is a good kid. Besides, he didn't know Duke was allergic to nuts."

"Well that's why I need your help. Michael may not be the person you think he is. I'm trying to acquit Katrina, you don't think she is a killer, do you?"

"She's a little high maintenance but I don't think she would do that. Alright, what exactly do you need me to do?"

"Tell me Michael's address."

"Why?"

"I'm going to search his house for clues."

"You mean you're going to break into his house?"

"Yes."

There was silence on the other line, he seemed to be thinking about my request. I was wishing for him to hurry up.

"Fine. But you have to be careful. He lives at Apartment 4B in Sandview Heights near the Cartson retirement home. We going to close up shop at around 8. Michael takes his car and his apartment is about a 40 minute drive away."

"Thank you. Can you give me a call when he leaves?"

"Will do. You better be quick and find something."

I bid him goodbye and hung up the phone. I had written Michael's address on a napkin. Maya grabbed the milkshake she ordered and stood up, beckoning me towards the door. I hesitated, so she had to pull me off my chair, offering me words of encouragement as we voyaged into our frankly devious scheme.

* * *

We took a taxi to Sandview Heights which was near the beach, a great place for the single life. Thankfully, there weren't many security measures so we could waltz right into the building. There were two people in the lobby who gave us suspicious glares but with my blue suit and Maya's spirit medium attire, it was inevitable. We climbed four floors up and reached apartment 4B: Michael's apartment. There was a sense of nervous excitement, pondering what lay behind this door.

"So Maya, what do we do now?"

"Prepare to be amazed." Maya opened her bag and took out a hair clip. I had expected something a little more high-tech. I stood back and watched Maya fiddle with the clip, jiggling it around the key hole. There was a click. Maya jauntily took hold of the door handle and swung the door open. "Voila!"

I was too petrified to even move. Maya had to push me into the apartment. Once I crossed the doorway that was it: I was officially breaking and entering. But all for a good cause, right? Maya gave me a pair of disposable gloves we bought from a pharmacy. I slipped them on and got ready to examine Michael's apartment. The door led straight into the living room area, with a connected kitchen and two doors on the side.

"You take the living room, I'll take the kitchen," Maya ordered. I heeded and searched around the couch, the TV set and the coffee table. There were cans of beer and a brochure for tourists in France. I picked up the brochure and opened it. Something had fallen out, onto the floor. It was a plane ticket. A one way ticket to France, departing tomorrow. I quickly put the ticket and brochure back to how I found them.

"Anything in the kitchen?" I called to Maya.

"Nope, no clues or food."

"Let's see what's in those doors."

We walked to the two doors, Maya took the one on the right and I took the left. We opened them together.

"Oh, this is just the bathroom," Maya said, shutting the door and joining me. It was astonishing what we were looking at. It was Michael's bedroom and the walls were covered with photos of Katrina. Katrina buying coffee, Katrina shopping in a clothing store, Katrina and her family playing mini golf.

"Is that the defendant?" Maya asked, shocked.

"Yes, that is Katrina."

"Holy cow."

This was Michael's secret, and I had finally established a motive for him. Now, I just had to get him into court.

A car door slam could be heard in the distance. I ran back to the living room to look outside the window. I could see Michael locking his car. I looked at a clock on the wall. It was almost nine.

"Maya, didn't Frederich call your phone?"

Maya checked her phone and gasped.

"Oh no, my phone was on silent! I have 11 missed calls, all from Frederich."

I started to panic, worrying about how we were going to escape. We couldn't just leave through the front door without Michael seeing us.

"Nick look! There's a fire escape," Maya cried, pointing into the bedroom.

In Michael's bedroom, there was a ladder outside his window. I clasped my hands and raised them to the ceiling and then ran to Michael's bedroom window, adverting my eyes from the disturbing Katrina collage on the wall. I opened the window and Maya glided onto the stairs first while I shuffled and wriggled after her. I closed the window and slid down the ladder. As I dropped onto the ground, I inhaled the fresh air in sweet relief.

"That's it Nick, you can relax now," Maya said, patting me on the back.

"I can't believe we just did that. Maya, you are insane but brilliant," I spluttered.

"Why thank you. Come on, let's get out of here. We don't have to get a taxi, I texted someone to come get us."

"Who?"

"You'll see."

We climbed down the fire escape and walked to a basketball court where a couple of kids were shooting hoops. Two headlights emerged a few minutes later and a car started to slow down as it came towards us. As it got closer, I could see the car was incredibly flashy and expensive looking. It then parked on the side of the road and the driver stepped out. Just what I needed. After invading a person's home without a search warrant, the last person I wanted to face was Miles Edgeworth.


	8. Chapter 8

**For the reviewer Panda and everybody else, here is a little bit of Edgeworth.**

* * *

Edgeworth strided over to us, both of his hands in his pockets and a judgemental expression on his face. He clicked on his key and the lights on his car flashed to indicate that it's locked. Such smugness, but I admit that I really needed to get a driver's license soon.

"Mr Edgeworth, hi!" Maya jumped and hugged him, "It's so good to see you!"

"Likewise Maya," Edgeworth said.

"Seriously Maya, you called Edgeworth?" I questioned Maya, annoyed.

"Actually I called Detective Gumshoe. What are you doing here Mr Edgeworth?" Maya asked.

"I received a call from a desolate Detective Gumshoe. Apparently his car broke down so he asked me to come get you. Enlighten me Wright, am I here to rescue you or arrest you?"

I hung my head in shame. "Cut me some slack Edgeworth, you're not even on this case," I muttered.

"Mr Edgeworth in all honesty, this whole thing was my idea," Maya confessed.

"Of course it was," Edgeworth chuckled, quick to forgive her, "Maya, Wright, I'll drive you two home."

"Shotgun!" Maya sang.

* * *

I was resting in the back seat of Edgeworth car, I was pretty exhausted. Edgeworth was driving while Maya was in the passenger seat bopping along to a CD she had inserted into Edgeworth's radio. It was the soundtrack to Titanium Samurai that she happened to carry with her everywhere she goes. The music blared, some sort of hybrid of techno and orchestra.

"So Wright, I hear you're pushing for a framing angle," Edgeworth said.

"That's right. Everything will become clear tomorrow, I have high hopes," I said confidently.

"Hey Mr Edgeworth, do you know the prosecutor? Wazowski was it?" Maya asked.

"You mean Prosecutor Backzowski. Yes, I know him. He's quite the novice, and he has a strange sense of humour. He started a rumour that I had a failed boyband career in Germany and people at the office like to tease me mercilessly about it," Edgeworth sighed in despair. Maya stifled a giggle and I also couldn't stop myself from smiling.

"I can't believe the victim was murdered on his wedding day," Maya said solemnly, "It's so sad."

"It is," Edgeworth agreed.

"Remember YOUR wedding, Mr Edgeworth?"

"Do I ever!"

Last February, Edgeworth had gotten married. It was the first time I had been a best man but I had given Larry the responsibility of organising the bachelor party. We went to Vegas yet the next day we were suddenly in Canada, waking up in barrels in Niagara falls. But that's not what everybody remembers about Edgeworth's wedding. On the day of the ceremony, Edgeworth and his fiancé, now his wife, were at the altar and as the bride started to say her vows, one frail Wendy Oldbag stood up and yelled, "OBJECTION!". I'm not sure who even invited her.

"That is a special kind of devotion," Edgeworth sighed.

"Yeah. Rest in peace Wendy Oldbag," Maya said.

We all murmured our respects for Wendy Oldbag. She died 2 months after Edgeworth's wedding.

"You remembered to put flowers on her grave right, Wright?" Edgeworth asked me.

"Hang on Edgeworth, it's your turn this month!" I complained.

The rest of the drive, Edgeworth and I bickered over whose turn it was until we finally arrived at Wright and Co offices. Maya and I stepped out and Edgeworth wished me the best in the trial and drove away. It had been a long time since I competed against Edgeworth in court. Ever since he settled down he seemed so...content. He finally had a family, something he lost long ago.

* * *

The second trial day loomed. Maya and I poured over the case notes the night before, creating a strategy. I had been informed that Frederich was to testify in court. Maya went back to Kurain early in the morning, I would see her again at her celebration ceremony. At the courtroom lobby, I asked Katrina about Michael.

"Sorry, I have no idea who that is," she told me.

"Are you sure? He was in the same rainforest project with you in high school," I pressed.

"There was a lot of people in that group, I wasn't acquainted with everybody."

I chose not to tell her about what I saw in Michael's apartment. I was still awaiting some evidence. Detective Gumshoe stumbled into the lobby in good timing.

"Hey pals, I have some test results here from Adam," he announced, handing me a report. Upon reading the report, the piece of cake tested positive for Katrina's saliva.

"Excellent," I said.

"Oh and sorry about last night. Maya said it was urgent but that car of mine is completely busted. I might have to sacrifice a kidney to pay for the repairs."

I did a double take at Gumshoe's statement, though I knew he was joking. Katrina was completely bemused.

"Relax pals, I'm kidding!"

"Still, Detective Gumshoe, you always seem to have financial problems."

Gumshoe looked down at the floor, glumly. "Gee, you noticed?"

"Have you ever thought about a career change?" Katrina suggested.

"Well it would be nice to get paid more. But I love being a detective, I wouldn't trade it for all the money in the world."

He sounded completely sincere about it. I agreed with him, my job didn't exactly pay well either but helping people was the only reward I was interested in. Just then my cell phone sounded. I had received a message that said:

_Come outside._

It was from an unknown number, which worried me slightly. I excused myself and walked out of the courthouse building. At the bottom of the steep concrete steps, I could see Jenna waving. I jogged down the stairs to her.

"Hey, Jenna," I greeted her.

"Hi Phoenix. How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm in a total state of zen. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, but I rarely do when I have a big case. All that adrenaline you know."

"I wish I could see you in action."

"Yeah, me too."

"I just came by here to say good luck."

She leaned in slowly and kissed me on the cheek. I could feel myself blushing.

"T-thanks," I stammered.

"Get in there you rascal!" Jenna giggled, ruffling my hair.

* * *

The judge pounded his gavel and another day of court commenced.

"Yesterday the defence requested to have the wedding cake analysed. Any feedback?" the judge asked.

"We did have the cake analysed. Feedback? According to the detectives, it was delicious," Backzowski sneered.

"Come again?"

"On another note, the cake did indeed contain nuts. And according to his medical records, the victim did have a severe allergy," Backzowski slammed his desk, "But we can't know for sure that it was the defendant who ate the missing slice."

"OBJECTION," I yelled.

"My, that was quick. What is it Mr Wright?" the judge asked.

I presented the forensic report.

"I happened to find the missing slice in the lounge and had it taken in for DNA testing. There was DNA on the cake, presumably from the defendant's saliva. This proves that she cut a slice of cake using the knife that ended up becoming the murder weapon."

The report met with a good response from the jury and the judge. Backzowski even seemed impressed.

"Not bad, puffin. Yet, this still doesn't remove the defendant from the crime," he explained.

"That is correct, she is the only suspect and the fingerprints still have the potential to incriminate her," the judge concurred.

"Hold it! The nuts in the cake, this is clearly a sign of premeditated murder on another person's part," I said.

"Interesting. I think it's time we brought out the witness," Backzowski suggested.

"Yes, right away. Bailiff!" the judge ordered.

The bailiff opened the door behind the judge's seat and out came Frederich who walked slowly up to the witness stand. He was quite subdued but the stressful atmosphere of the courtroom was bound to cause his temper to rise, I feared. As part of routine, Backzowski asked Frederich to state his name and occuptation.

"Frederich Sanders. I make cakes. I made the cake for the wedding. I even whipped one up today for the judge," Frederich said meekly, presenting and a cake with a picture of a gavel on it.

"Oh hoh hoh, marvellous," the judge gleefully said.

"Not so fast Your Honour, the last time this man made a cake it was poisoned," Backzowski warned.

"No no, that's all a misunderstanding," Frederich insisted.

"Well then, begin your testimony."

"I have been baking cakes since I was four years old and have been doing so professionally for 15 years. I like to think I have perfected my craft. True, there were nuts in this cake, and there is a simple explanation for this," Frederich testified.

"What is this simple explanation?" I began.

"I... I was told to put nuts in the cake. That is what the client asked."

"The "client"? You mean Katrina?" Why on earth would she ask you do that?"

"OBJECTION, the witness will not answer that question, " Backzowski intervened, "He is trying to say that his client, that is the defendant, gave him orders for what she wanted in the cake. She asked for nuts, and so she got some."

"Hold it! That is not what you told me yesterday witness!" I pressed.

"You don't understand. Yesterday at the station they kept saying, "she told you to puts nuts in right?". What was I supposed to say?" Frederich asked, flustered.

"Watch it Freddo. All you have to do is tell the truth," Backzowski said sternly, "What did the defendant ask you for in the cake?"

"Hold it! What about your notebook Frederich?" I chimed in, "It doesn't matter what Katrina says, it's what you write down in your notebook isn't it?"

"Yes, that's pretty much how I work," Frederich heeded.

"Freddo, what's the big idea? What is this notebook?" Backzowski asked.

It was time for the witness to present evidence. Frederich reached into his pocket and presented his notebook. Backzowski demanded that the notebook be given to him and furiously started to read through it. He stopped at one page, brought his palm to his forehead, grimacing.

"What does it say Prosecutor Backzowski?" the judge queried.

"The witness had a recipe that specifically contained no nuts, at the request of the defendant. But, he still put nuts into the cake. He must have made an error!" Backzowski claimed. He had just hit Frederich where it hurt most: his cake making skills.

"How dare you! Did I not just say that I have been doing this for fifteen years? I would not do something so rookie-ish, especially when I knew that Duke had an allergy!" Frederich ranted.

"So you admit you knew of his allergy?" the judge pointed out.

"Yes. Somebody put nuts in the cake. And it was NOT me!"

"But you're the one who made the damn cake. Who else could it have been?" Backzowski demanded.

"It was... Phoenix help me out here," Frederich turned to me.

"Oh right," I piped up, preparing for a storm, "Well there's only one person it could have been. Michael Levy."

A buzz of chatter started in the jury, mainly asking who Michael Levy was.

"Michael Levy. He's my assistant. Actually he resigned, so if anybody wants a job, I'm hiring!" Frederich offered the jury. I saw Gumshoe in a train of thought, maybe considering that career change.

"I request to the court that we bring in Michael Levy to testify," I slammed my desk for emphasis, "Right now."

"We can't just bring him in like that, we need to search for him and that could take hours," Backzowski disapproved.

"We don't have to search for him, I know exactly where he is."

"Where?"

"Fairlee Airport. About to board a plane to France."

I remembered the plane ticket, his plane was to take off in half an hour. Backzowski shook his head in disbelief.

"And just how do you know that?"

I shrugged. "Just a hunch."

"A HUNCH? Why you little-"

An enraged Backzowski looked like he wanted to rip his desk off the ground and hurl it at me. I ducked feverishly just to be safe.

"Prosecutor Backsowski, please control yourself," the judge pleaded, "Mr Wright! What exactly are you trying to do?"

"I am simply trying to solve this case. And for that to happen Michael Levy must testify. Please your honour, we need him here," I requested. The judge turned to Backzowski for his opinion. The prosecutor closed his eyes as if he was meditating and quietly allowed my request.

"Bailiff! Contact security at Fairlee Airport at once and arrange for Michael Levy to be detained immediately. We will take a 30 minute recess."


End file.
